


Home at Last

by evilleaper



Series: Dark Shadows over Time [9]
Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: First Time, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilleaper/pseuds/evilleaper
Summary: Sam leaps back to Al but there is still one more leap of faith to be taken before he can finally consider himself home.
Relationships: Sam Beckett/Al Calavicci
Series: Dark Shadows over Time [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/331705
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Home at Last

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** 'Shock horror' Sam & Al do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them and promise to return them to their rightful owners when I am finished.
> 
>  **Warnings:** This work of slash fiction contains graphic and loving depictions of sex between two men. If it doesn't float your boat then you should stop reading now. 
> 
> **Author’s notes:** This is the missing scene from **Coming Home** part three in the **Dark Shadows over Time** series and is basically Sam and Al first time together which was discussed during that story, but never fully investigated. Not new, just new AO3.
> 
>  **Thanks:** To Peta for betaing this story and for making it so much easier on the eyes than it was to begin with.

With the formalities already taken care of and Al's obvious erection pressing against my hip I knew there was only one more step to take before my homecoming would finally be complete. 

As soon as Verbena had left us alone, I had made it clear I wanted to pick up where we had left off before I leaped. Despite his initial reservations Al had admitted to me that he wanted the same things I did, even though he was still somewhat wary. 

I have tried to reassure him, but kissing Al was never really a problem. It was what came next that I have had difficulty with and was it seemed, still slowing my progress. Moving to second base always reminded me of our differences, or perhaps it was our similarities that made me hesitate, I muse as I pull back to catch my breath and adjust my own erection. 

"You okay?" Al pants as our lips lose contact. 

"I'm fine," I tell him, adding, to provide a suitable cover for my hesitation, "I was just thinking that this sofa isn't as comfortable as I remember it being." 

"Well it probably has seen better days, Sam, but are you sure it's just the sofa that's making you feel uncomfortable?" 

My first thought is that Al is referring to the state of my jeans, but as he backs off slightly, and an old and familiar sadness clouds his dark eyes I realise he is actually talking about how intense things have gotten between. 

Not for the first time tonight I am confronted with the stark reality of just how much my fear of physical intimacy has affected him and the enormous toll his confidence has paid for my insecurities. 

"I'm sure," I promise, reaching for the hand Al has draped over the back of the sofa, squeezing it gently. 

Technically Al and I have been a couple for seven years, though for various reasons, not to mention the most obvious one, we have never consummated our relationship. I want that for tonight. More than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life. I want us to finally make love, to let go of the past and begin the future I know we have together. 

Some habits are difficult to break however and even as I bask in my hopes and the unique pleasure of Al's closeness, I feel my old doubts gather at the very edge of my consciousness.

It had been those same doubts that had kept Al and I at a constant crossroad before I leaped, I recall as I silently push them aside and lift our joined hands to my lips. I am not sure if Al believes what I have said. He is noticeably quiet now, studying me in a way that makes it difficult to know exactly what he is thinking. Whatever it is, I decide as I close my eyes, I have no intentions of giving him any reason to think I have been anything but completely honest with him.

Kissing the backs of his fingers I slowly summon the courage I need to show Al just how sure I am about being with him. 

"It's not the sofa that's making me feel uncomfortable," I offer. Then, not giving Al a chance to ask me to explain I simply let my legs fall apart and guide his hand to the heat, that despite my lingering fears is still radiating between them. 

Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next I hear Al's breathing falter and feel his hand close carefully over the front of my jeans. I open my eyes as the added warmth spreads throughout my groin, watching as dark lashes lower in appreciation. I withdraw my hand and he moves in closer; burying his head against my shoulder. Nipping and sucking at my throat.  
Al's touch has always been confident, inspiring trust where mind-numbing fear had once ruled and now is no different. It feels good, so good as he kneads my erection, occasionally slipping lower to cup and squeeze. It always has I chide myself. It has just taken me a while to accept that it was okay to enjoy this as much as I do. 

Stretching my legs and grinding against the warmth generated by Al’s knowing hand as he lifts and massages me with age-old care; eliciting a moan from me that I neither want to, nor do I try to conceal from him. His head comes up at the plaintive sound that seems to have come from some deep and previously hidden place within my body. 

"Does that help?" he asks. His voice is hoarse, and his eyes are dark now, searching mine for reassurance. For permission to go on. 

I nod, not knowing what to say. It is all too much. I seek Al's lips once more in the hope that he of all people would appreciate that this was one of those times when actions speak far louder than words ever could. As expected, he returns my kiss with fervour, continuing his ministrations with loving care. 

Coaxing Al on, I wrap my arms around him and push against the hand offering me welcome relief. It is hot and intense and as he releases the top button on my jeans and his hand then delves inside the worn fabric still holding me prisoner, I know that we are fast approaching new territory. I steel myself for what is to come; mentally preparing for the myriad of emotions that bombard me as his questing hand encounters bare flesh. Old ideals flicker at the edge of my memory but, I push them away fighting against fear and old predigest. 

The angle is not ideal, and I try to reciprocate as best I can by stroking his back and giving a hushed voice to the feelings, he inspires in me. For a few minutes Al seems to appreciate my newfound boldness, his hands and answering whispers vanquishing the last of my fears. 

It is only when he pulls back suddenly, leaving me breathless and painfully hard that I realise he is not enjoying the same level of enjoyment I am. 

Al's face is flushed, his shirt and hair dishevelled, his breathing ragged, and as I sit back and watch him trying to calm himself and return his clothing to some kind of order I understand that in a matter of no more than a few minutes he had reached a point of no return. A place where decisions must be made, and he had tonight as he had been forced to in the past, chosen to back away.

Sadly, there was no need to ask Al why he had acted as he has because we both know the reasons behind his behaviour only too well. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, trying to settle myself. To remember that trust was needed from both sides. 

Straightening my own posture, I reach out to the man sitting hunched over beside me. His face is buried in his hands now and his breathing is still not what it should be.

"Too much?" I ask quietly, already knowing that for Al, it had not been nearly enough. 

Al does not answer me; simply he nods, releasing a long-held sigh as he scrubs at his face and then sits up also. 

"It's getting late," he announces as he removes my hand from his shoulder; taking it gently between his own as he turns to look at me. 

Al's face is still flushed and his dark eyes, which now seem unwilling to meet my own for more than a second or two, appear strangely haunted -- by a past we needed to lay to rest, my conscience echoes. "I should be going," he adds, carefully releasing me and rising to his feet before I can reassure him that I know what I am doing. That more than anything, I want to finish what we have started.

"Why?" I ask, reaching out yet again and thankfully catching hold of Al before he moves out of range. 

Al doesn't pull away but it is obvious, even from my current position that he is struggling with more than a healthy libido. "Because things are moving too fast," he informs me soberly.

Even though Al has admitted that he wanted us to be together, he has also been adamant that he would not risk losing me again for anything. He was not going to lose me though. I have had many months to think about what I wanted when I finally came home and apart from telling him of my hopes for the two us, I had also promised myself that I would do whatever it took to prove his faith in me had never been misguided. 

Releasing Al so that I can stand up I take his worried face between both of my hands and endeavour to do what I know I must. "Then we slow them down," I tell him. 

However, after months of dealing with my indecision and then spending years separated from me, Al is not easily convinced. His eyes are very bright now and for the first time since he pulled back, he holds my gaze intently instead of trying to avoid me. 

"Please, Sam, I don't want to screw things up on your first night home."

I shake my head no, glancing down at the carpeted floor at my feet, wishing that the pleading in Al's voice didn't hurt so much to hear, or remind me of how badly I had hurt him in the past. Taking a deep cleansing breath, I let it out slowly and then looked back at Al.

"You're not screwing anything up," I assure him. "God, Al, we're been through so much as it is. I don't want to be alone tonight. Please don't go." 

Being home felt strange and I knew for a while at least, it was going to take some getting used to. The last two nights had been difficult, but I had managed to find some peace in the hours when Verbena had left me alone to rest by thinking about the man who I could now hold in my arms. We had been apart for too long as it was and if I had my way, neither Al nor I would be alone again. 

Clearly taken back by the notion of spending the night with me so soon after my return, it takes a moment or two for Al to fully absorb what I have said, and judging from his confused expression, he does still not completely trust what he is hearing. "You mean that kid? he chances. "You want me to stay here with you?" 

"Yes," I answer, relieved that he may actually warm to the idea with the right amount of reassurance. I let my hands drop to Al's shoulders and then pull him toward me. "Yes," I repeat, hugging him close. 

For the next few minutes Al seems content to rest quietly against my chest, his arms circling my waist, his still quite prominent erection nestled next to mine while his heart keeps time with my own. From all we have discussed tonight I know that if I only wanted him to stay here on the sofa he would accept that and not expect anything else until I was ready for more. But I am ready for more, and I know I still needed to make that clear to him. 

I close my eyes on that thought, my hands once again re-familiarising themselves with the muscles in Al's back and soft hairs on the nape of his neck. Thinking, as I draw back and bend the necessary distance to kiss his forehead, that over the last few years I have taken many leaps of faith, always aware that if not God, time or chance, then Al would steer me in the right direction. Now though, I know it needs to be me who decides which path we should take and how it should be travelled. 

"I want you to make love to me," I murmur. The words that for so long have only been rehearsed within the safety of my own mind, come out just above a whisper and sounding decidedly breathless. It is fitting I think as I open my eyes and pull back a little more so that I can see Al properly, adding although I know it's probably not necessary given our history. "The last time we were together… you wanted to…"

"But we didn't, Sam. Because you were afraid," Al finishes for me. 

_Terrified_ was probably a more accurate description of how I had felt about making love with Al the last time we were together. I am not very proud of the way I treated him during the incident he is referring to and I drop my arms to my sides, wondering if leaving him as I had would always be an issue between us. 

It was so long ago though, and if the truth were to be told Al and I are not the same men we were then, but as I stand waiting for him to say something more I realise that no matter the years that have passed some things don't change. 

Al's guarded nature is on full alert and eyes that were gentle and patient a moment ago now narrow suspiciously. I bow my head, unable to hold his gaze. 

It seems like a lifetime before Al finds his voice amidst the silent questions now circulating between us and I lift my head as he asks what I guess, is in his mind at least, the one most demanding an answer at the moment. 

"Are you saying you're not now?" 

Al knows me better than anyone and as I have already told him I was afraid earlier this evening I have no intentions of marring my homecoming with a lie. I straighten my shoulders, trying to project a confidence that was dwindling with each reminder of the past.

"A little," I manage, "but I know that we both want this. That it's time, Al" 

Al opens his mouth to say something else; to argue with me I suspect, or to tell me that he thinks it's still too soon, but apparently decides against doing either as without uttering a single word he closes it again and simply shakes his head at me instead. His eyes are soft and warm when they meet mine once more; silently adoring me in a way that always made me feel that I could accomplish anything as long as he was with me.

Even with Al's warm gaze filling me with a renewed sense of faith the thought that his ongoing silence meant I had finally convinced him that I wanted to consummate our relationship tonight leaves me feeling slightly light-headed and I am very grateful for the hand he raises to my cheek. After so many years being deprived of the physical support of someone who truly knew me, the simple yet very intimate gesture grounds me in a way that no amount of words could right now. 

Releasing the breath I didn't realise I'd been holding, I close my eyes and reach up to briefly cover Al's hand, drawing his palm to my lips and kissing its centre before I open them again. 

"Sam," he whispers, holding my gaze with eyes that to me have never seemed so bright, or so full of love. Then using the same weathered hand he has caressed my cheek with, Al takes one of my own and guides me towards the door of my quarters. 

Unsure of what Al is doing, or if I have completely misinterpreted the look of acceptance I had seen in his eyes, I feel my spirits falter momentarily as we pause in front of the closed door, and then soar once more when he reaches up to turn the light off. 

Al's voice is rougher than usual when he speaks again, filled with emotions that until now neither of us have allowed to surface completely for fear of how they would be received by the other. "If you change your mind, or if you don't like something, you have to tell me." 

It was okay I tell myself as we stand together, our eyes slowly adjusting to the dark while the fingers of our joined hands interlace in a way that makes me feel as if they have always been held by the other. Everything would be okay because after all this time I finally understood that all I needed to do was to trust him, and the heart that I knew in time we would share. 

\----*----

The outside security lights are more than sufficient to safely navigate by, and I note, give an illusion of subtlety to everything around us as Al carefully escorts me to my long-abandoned bedroom. In all the years I have resided at the Project I have never once shared my bedroom, let alone my bed with anyone else and it seems right somehow that the first time I bring anyone here, it is Al. 

Despite the fact that I have not slept here in seven long years I have no doubts that everything is as fresh and well cared for as the rest of my rooms and belongings. Al appears to have made certain that all has remained just as I left it. A testimony of sorts that I would one day need what I had left behind. 

I glance at him now, a lump slowly forming in my throat as he turns to look over at me; feeling elated in a way that I don't think I will ever be able to explain, that his faith in me had not wavered over the years; knowing that above all else, I was safe here with him. And that it seems, is exactly how Al wants me to feel because as he lets go of my hand and pulls me effortlessly into his arms he whispers a heartfelt promise that I have nothing to fear.

I want to tell Al that I know he would never hurt me, that I trust him, but there is so much welling inside of me that I can't seem to make myself form the necessary words. I settle for returning his embrace and resting my head against his shoulder until he releases me once again. 

Pushing me back just a little, Al's hands remain poised on my forearms, his eyes shining up at me in the dim light while the tip of his tongue silently begs admittance to my mouth. It is an invitation I cannot refuse and I part my lips, welcoming what is by now the familiar taste of him; tears stinging my eyes as he kisses me so tenderly that I feel as if I will cry.

The sheer sweetness of Al's kiss makes it difficult to breathe, to not physically shake from the thought of what we are about to do and it is not very long before I find myself struggling to stay upright. I can feel the end of the bed against my right shin and I try to guide Al down to it so that we can continue this more comfortably, but he holds me steady, refusing the option.

The moment that by all accounts had been impossible to endure unmoved, is broken however and he pulls back. For a second or perhaps two, we stand at the foot of my bed. If Al can see the affect he is having on me, he doesn't mention it and I am relieved that he has not either seen, or interpreted the few tears that I had not been able to hold back as anything other than what they are. Tears of joy, of relief and final acceptance that being with him like this is what I want. 

"I want to touch you," he tells me, still sounding as breathless as I feel. "Please, Sam, will you let me undress you?" 

I cannot think of anything that Al could ask of me tonight that I would refuse him, and my hands move immediately to the buttons on my shirt. I fumble with the first, feeling self-conscious despite my wish not to, only to have my efforts halted prematurely as he stills my trembling fingers.

I do not understand but I don’t resist when Al wordlessly draws my hands away and then lifts them to his shoulders. Standing within the circle of my arms his request to be allowed to undress me finally sinks in as he reaches to finish what I had not been able to accomplish. 

Slipping each of the buttons on my shirt from their respective fastenings with a simple dexterity that I don't think I could muster right now, Al lays almost too light kisses to each new area of flesh as it is exposed to the night air. My skin is covered with goose bumps by the time my shirt is hanging completely open and a warm wet trail has been laved from my chest back up to my throat. 

I close my eyes and let my head roll to one side as Al then licks and alternately sucks at the muscle running the length of my neck; very glad he has had the foresight to give me something to hold on to when his hands bury themselves beneath the thin fabric still separating us. The two very unique forms of stimulation go straight to my groin and I bite down gently on my bottom lip to stop myself moaning aloud as each sweep of his hands and nip of his teeth drives me closer and closer to the edge of my endurance. I grip Al's shoulders for support but my knees honestly feel like they are made of jello and in no time at all it becomes impossible to stay standing, or to remain still and silent under such a sensual attack. 

Although I'm aware that it will be Al who sets the pace here, somewhere in the tiny portion of my brain that is still functioning beyond the need growing inside of me realises he is relying on me to tell him when something is too much, or if I need more.

Relinquishing the hold I have on his shoulders, I ease myself just far enough away from Al to slip my shirt down my arms, letting it fall unchecked to the floor at my feet before I move to return the favour. He doesn't object and in spite of the seriousness of what we are doing teases me about my impatience and sudden lack of fine motor skills when he ends up having to help me unbutton his shirt also. 

My cheeks heat on cue and as Al takes my face in his hands, I wonder if he knows that I am blushing or that being in his arms makes me feel like I'm sixteen years old again; all thumbs and not anywhere near the right words to express myself with. 

"You're very eager," he whispers, pressing up against me and kissing the side of my nose. 

I smile, my face heating further and my whole body trembling from the mere promise of something more as he bestows small kisses to my cheek and then to the corner of my mouth. 

"You don't like eager?" I return, knowing, despite the fact that it’s difficult to think about much else, that the need radiating from Al in equal insistence to my own made any answer he gave me completely redundant. 

I can feel Al's lips curve slightly in response to my question and then the warmth of his breath as he sighs and pulls back. 

"It's not that I don't like it, Sam," he admits, his grin fading away to portray a more serious disposition as he goes on, "It's just that we've got all night, and I don't want to rush any part of this." 

Al's hands move in slow settling strokes over my bare chest and shoulders as he speaks. Obviously enjoying the smooth texture of my skin under his fingertips, he pauses every so often to note my reaction, and even though he has not said as much, I know that he wants more than anything to do this right. I nod my acceptance. My voice catching in my throat when he rolls his hand experimentally to toy with the small waking nub beneath it, realising as our gazes meet briefly through the haze of sensual heat I had not been expecting, just what being here with me means to him. Risks and responsibilities included. 

I know that on some level, Al has been wanting this the entire time we have known one another but I am only now understanding that it's so much more than the physical act that he wants to savour. 

It is difficult to explain, but everything feels far less urgent from that moment onward and it's so much easier than I imagined it would be to just allow Al to finish undressing me in his own time, in his own way, and to let myself simply enjoy the process. I stand shivering, though I cannot rightly say why as he releases the last of the buttons on my jeans and then slips inside to slide them off my hips, his hands trailing appreciatively over my thighs and legs as he eases them down. I have to sit on the edge of the bed so he can remove my shoes and socks, trying not to laugh as he works patiently and almost blindly beneath the denim bunched around my ankles to untie my shoelaces. Of course, it probably would have been a better idea to take them off first, but as Al informs me from his place at my feet, it wouldn't have been half as much fun. 

I let myself fall backwards on to the bed when Al finally manages to strip my jeans off and then tuck a hand behind my head so that I can watch him take care of his own clothing. For all Al's years of experience, he appears shy, hesitant almost as he wanders over to the straight back chair in the corner of the room and undresses down to his shorts. I can see the outline of his erection straining through the sheer material as he moves around in the shadows, waiting much like my own to be set free and my eyes can't resist the urge to follow the hand he lowers to adjust himself with. In the months prior to my leaving, I had gone to his quarters most nights, wanting desperately to settle the internal conflict I had felt about loving him. We had experimented a little but not once during that time had I seen him touch himself and the sight of him doing so now is surprisingly erotic. I feel myself twitch in response, my face heating once more when Al finishes with his clothes and his gaze shifts me. 

He knows I have been watching him, I'm sure of it and I prop myself up on my elbows as he makes his way back to the bed, hoping that I appear as at ease as I feel. Al has never given the impression that he is a man who doubted his appeal when it came to members of the opposite sex, with me however he is less sure of himself. I don't want to dwell on the past but I know he is wondering how I am feeling even before he asks me. 

"Still with me?" He inquires, reaching down to stroke one of my legs and to carefully part my knees. 

There is no place on earth that I would rather be than right here with Al, but his hand is very distracting. I cannot remember a time when I have felt so utterly exposed or aroused by the thought of how I must look to him right now. My legs tremble a little and my voice hitches noticeably but somehow I manage what I hope is a convincing, "Yes."

Thankfully, it is all the reassurance Al seems to need for the moment because he sits down beside me without further hesitation, the bed dipping under his added weight as he leans over to smooth his hand across my stomach. 

"Good." He murmurs and I lay back down again, raising my arms above my head so that he can settle himself at my side. 

I can feel the heat of Al's arousal warming my hip as his hand strays over my abdomen to my thigh, carefully avoiding the area where my own ardour is begging for attention, along with the steady thrum of his heart pressed again my chest when he bends to kiss me. He is not really resting his full weight on me, but it feels wonderful to have him so close. Sliding an arm around his neck I cup the back of Al's head and then whimper under his lips and the gentle probing of his tongue; once again accepting the sensual exploration as he slowly retraces his earlier path, lavishing my mouth, chin and throat with infinite care. 

It feels amazing, dreamlike almost, to be treated so carefully and I find myself gradually drowning in a flood of emotion when Al pulls back to catch his breath and to remind me that he loves me. I can only just make out his expression but what he is not saying is clearly written in his dark eyes. 

It makes me a little sad to think Al is still concerned that I will go so far and then decide I was not ready for this after all. As much as I would like it to be different, I know there is no amount of words that could convince him otherwise at this stage. Only time will erase his fears, and thankfully, time is something that we both have plenty of now that I am home. 

"I know you do," I assure him, drawing him down to me once more. 

Running my fingers through Al's hair, I marvel at the depth of the love I see staring back at me, and my own ability to finally embrace what was offered to me so many years before. "Now," I add, "all we need is for you to show me."

Al's eyes drift shut with my words and I let my hand slide from his hair to his shoulder, stroking down his arm while I wait for the tension that I know is still holding him back to subside. 

I am prepared to wait all night if necessary, but in reality it is not very long before I once again find myself the object of Al's warm gaze and I smile up at him, loving him all the more for his patience and the care he shows me. 

The hand that has remained on my thigh moves again as I watch Al's features soften and his lips curve up to return my smile. Slowly at first, his warm weathered fingers slide up my leg to the place where my briefs begin, and then without another word he leans forward to reclaim my lips, carefully easing the thin fabric out of the way so that he can caress my hip unhindered.

For the next few minutes, it feels as if Al is quite literally pouring his heart and soul into doing what I had asked of him and I can do little more than tremble beneath him. Or put up any more than a token protest as I am forced to release him when his focus shifts and his ministrations take on a more obvious purpose.

Guided to the top of the bed I feel the covers being turned down around me and then through hooded eyes and an ever-growing fog of sensual fascination I watch as Al gets up to slip my briefs off. He is still clad in his shorts but his erection is barely contained within and as he re-joins me again, and I roll over to meet him in the middle of the bed, I can feel the heated length pressing hard and insistent against my own.

We moan in unison and I close my eyes, instinctively wrapping an arm around Al's hip to pull him closer and to increase the glorious contact. It feels very natural but it is also a huge mistake. The urge to move against him is almost overwhelming and it takes every ounce of will power I can muster to resist the need to do so; knowing that even the slightest movement at this point would have me doing a lot more than just feeling like a teenager again. 

Al seems to understand and as I struggle to settle my racing heart and will myself not to move a muscle I note him gently pulling back, subsequently removing the temptation for me to finish this before either of us are ready. Still within arm’s reach he strokes my hair continuously, hushing me softly and as I open my eyes again, needing a moment or two more before I can focus properly I am met with the sight of a man who is obviously very pleased with himself.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Al grins, sounding every bit as happy as he appears. 

In my opinion, which I am more than willing to admit is very biased right now, good did not exactly do justice to the incredible feeling of touching one another so intimately. I am so relieved to be basking in one of Al's brilliant smiles, that I can't bring myself to argue with him beyond adding a somewhat choked 'very' to his comment. 

Al's grin broadens at my reply, more assured I realise by my body's reaction than I would have thought possible. "It gets better," he tells me. 

I don't doubt Al for a moment and during those that follow, he proves me right over and over again.

Beginning with my chest and the small nubs that awaken with little provocation under his lips, Al takes his time and his own obvious enjoyment introducing me to the new and very pleasurable sensation. It is not something I have a great deal of experience with and I moan my appreciation, writhing unashamedly at the unfamiliar attention, caught between the incredible feeling of his tongue transporting me to unexpected heights and the hand cupping my backside. 

Satisfied it seems with my response, Al gives me little time to recover from his gentle torture or an opportunity to complain beyond a whimper as he pulls back once again. The night air hits my exposed chest the moment we lose contact and I reach for him, immediately wanting back the warm heat of his mouth and the wonderful feeling of his hand which had been slowly edging its way to where we both know it would be most welcome right now. 

"It's okay." He tells me, leaning over to bestow a quick kiss to my lips before he lets me go again and slips out of reach. 

My whole body trembles as I watch Al move away and then stand beside the bed to remove the last of his clothing. The sight of his trim physique silhouetted against the window is breath taking. And as I let my eyes travel over the well cared-for torso to the newly freed erection that could easily be a twin to my own I realise that somewhere through the course of the evening our physical similarities had long ceased to be a subject of confusion or fear to me. In fact, seeing Al as he was now only made me think about how the blood pooled in my groin at the sight of him and how I ached for him to touch me. 

It is perhaps not a revelation as such, considering how we have spent the last few hours, but coupled with the ever-growing demands of my body the stray thought provides me with a conviction I had not possessed before. 

I reach out to Al yet again, reassuring him that I found him desirable, and at the same time silently urging him back to me -- to finish what we have both waited far too long for. 

Never one who needed to be asked more than once Al returns willingly and I sigh at the pleasure it gives me just to feel his warmth. His heart is literally pounding in his chest now and the obvious reason for his ragged breathing drags heavily across my thigh as I spread my legs, inviting him to settle between them. A little surprised I think, by my continuing boldness, it is another moment before Al takes up my offer and I experience for the first time the hot slide of overheated flesh against my own. It is even better than before, and although the beating of both our hearts and the resounding gasps for breath make it difficult to hear much else, somewhere in the back of my mind I know I moan as I cradle him to me. As perfect as it is to finally have Al's lean-body blanketing me; to feel his full weight resting comfortably within the confines of my arms, and his answering desire moulded intimately to my own, it is not a position he allows for long, and all too soon it seems he is pulling back and rising up on all fours above me.

I grieve the loss but bring my legs up and place my feet flat on the bed as soon as Al moves to give him the room he needs to reposition himself between my knees. There is a renewed tension in his body now and even though I understand the origin of it only too well, I stroke down his back to the smooth curve of his backside as he hovers over me, just trying to alleviate what I can. Whether I am actually helping or not is left up to conjecture however. I see Al's dark eyes close briefly and hear his breathing catch as I retrace my path over his lower back, but other than the tiny sounds that escape him just before he leans forward to press his lips to mine nothing is said. 

Words aren't important, not when so much more can be conveyed through lips and hands and the one you are conversing with understands you better than anyone else; knows implicitly what feels like heaven on earth and goes about making sure that you do also. 

For my part, I am and will be for some time I imagine, very much the student to Al's experience, and although I had been determined to show I wanted him, and this, he makes it clear he wants me to concentrate on accepting rather than trying to reciprocate tonight. 

It is not easy but as Al works his way down my body and I am forced once again to relinquish my hold on him I yield to his wishes. Seven long years of leaping having taught me if nothing else, that it was far wiser to actually learn the details of any new situation than to simply assume that just because something seemed familiar, that it would be the same. 

Raising my arms above my head I grip the headboard for support, arching up to meet each soft swipe of his tongue and every stroke of his hands, completely in awe of the man kneeling between my legs -- loving me with such devotion that I don't think I will last the duration or feel this good again, even if I live to be a hundred years old. And it is either divine intervention or the fact that Al is in much the same state that I am that prompts him to finally take pity on me. 

Warm fingers encompass my painfully neglected erection, steadying the straining flesh while a kiss, far more intimate than any of the others he has graced me with tonight is bestowed to the very tip. It is just a peck really, but the effect it has on me is both startling and instantaneous. Tightening the hold I have on the headboard I stiffen under the faint touch of Al's lips and the light caress of his fingers, afraid that if he does it again I will come and that if he doesn't I will expire right here in my own bed. I try to stay still, to stave off the urge to thrust my hips forward, but it is no use, my legs tremble uncontrollably as his dark head comes up and our eyes meet through the haze of sexual tension threatening to blind me. 

"Just relax," he soothes. 

I want more than anything to do as Al says, to make this last as long as he wants, but I am too close and even as he bends again, this time taking me between his lips I am shaking my head, flashes of colour appearing behind my eyes. 

It's hot, moist and oh so good inside Al's mouth, too good to want to pull away from I decide as I feel myself bump against the back of his throat. My mind absently noting the exquisite sensation of his oesophagus working feverishly to accommodate all of me, at the very moment the familiar tightening in my groin steals all decisions from my control, and I know without question there is no turning back. The flashes behind my eyes become tiny explosions or red and orange and then I am sliding forward, welcomed wholeheartedly into the warm channel making room for me, coming so hard I am certain that I'm scalding him with my release. 

I am not sure how long I lay shaking, just trying to ride out the shattering effects of my climax before I feel myself slip free of Al's mouth. Somewhere along the way, I have closed my eyes but as he kisses me once more for good measure and then strokes carefully over one of my raised knees, encouraging me to lower my still trembling legs, I open them again. Relaxing just enough to do what Al clearly wants, I watch him take his time rubbing the taut muscles in my thighs. His hands have remained gentle throughout tonight, only now they seem more intent on calming, rather than tempting me and it is not very long before they have the desired effect. Slowly unlocking my fingers I manage to release the iron grip I have on the headboard and bring my arms down to my sides; sighing my contentment as the last of the tension leaves my body.

I cannot remember when I have felt so bonelessly sated or so loved, and although I have no wish for Al to think I haven't enjoyed every moment of my home-coming, I am also starting to feel the last couple of days catching up with me and I yawn before I can think to stop myself. 

He is still sitting quietly between my legs, but our gazes meet as he lifts his head to smile at me. "I think I'll have to take that as a compliment," he informs me. 

Al grin is playful, rejuvenating in a way I would not have believed possible at this point and I find myself reaching for him once again, needing to hold him in much the same way I needed to breathe. 

"You should," I tell him as he moves back up my body and into my arms. "That was…" Incredible, mind-blowing, amazing. I want to find the right words to express just how contented I feel right now, but none of the ones that come to mind seem even remotely adequate under the circumstances. 

Thankfully, Al seems to understand my struggle. "Good?" He suggests, and I decide it is probably best just to leave it at that for the moment. 

" _Yes_ ," I return, becoming very aware as I roll us both over onto our sides that his pleased expression is more about my satisfaction than his own. I have always accepted the fact that dealing with Al's needs was a part of anything we did together and while I am not exactly sure how we might go about meeting them, I am confident in the knowledge that he will. 

I lean in then, my hands sliding through the damp curls clinging to Al's scalp as I press my lips to his, surprised and aroused by the taste of myself in his mouth as he opens to admit me. My mind and body immediately reminding me of just how he had loved me and how it had felt to see myself disappearing into his warm depths. I feel myself heat at the memory, my body responding to it and the wonderful sensation of Al's tongue gliding over my own as he moans into my mouth. 

It feels so good to hold Al, to taste his passion and to finally be able to love him as much as I know he loves me. But as I note the careful readjustment of limbs while I kiss him and then the presences of one his hands between our flushed bodies I also know that it is time that I gave back a little of what he has given me. Releasing Al's sweat drenched nape, I pull back just enough to allow my hand access to the warm space where our legs intertwine and where his is now stroking the evidence of his long held desire. I see Al's eyes grow wide at the first light touch of my fingers skimming over the back of his hand and watch as it seems the air is shocked from his lungs as I encounter the smooth head of his penis when it slides through his fist. 

"Anything I can do to help?" I offer tentatively. 

The tip of the heated flesh under my fingers is moist and I know that given the length of time we have been leading up to this and the way Al is still struggling to get his breathing under control he is very close to the edge. The effort of which is fast becoming too much for him I realise as I then see his eyes drift shut in a silent show of acceptance and feel his hand move beneath my own, giving me the room I need to slide down to hold him without interference. 

I lean in again as I stroke Al, his hand returning to guide me through the details of what he likes best, kissing his forehead while he buries he face in the crook of my neck and sucks gently on the base of my throat. Tears sting my eyes as Al marks me. Not because he is hurting me, or the idea of being on the receiving end of something so primal doesn't appeal to me. It's just that it has been so long since I was a part of anything as intense as loving him that I think I had forgotten what it was like to truly belong to someone else -- to be home.

The End


End file.
